


Doors open to those brave enough to knock

by FactoryKat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Being Anders, Bittersweet Ending, Custom Hawke (Dragon Age), Dragon Age II - Act 3, Dragon Age II Quest - Justice, Light Angst, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Named Hawke (Dragon Age), POV Anders (Dragon Age), you know what's coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24263959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: Merrill's question went unheard at first. Anders caught himself nodding off somewhere between staring at Hawke and out at the harbor while propped up against the side of a warehouse. "Are you happy?"Based on in-game banter between Anders and Merrill
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke, Isabela & Merrill
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Doors open to those brave enough to knock

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite thing lately is revisiting old drabbles and doing some significant work on them to improve and tweak them. I took an otherwise pretty fluffy one-shot and injected some feels. Enjoy!

The four of them eventually stopped walking, coming to a gradual stop in front of buildings just beyond the now-vacant Qunari compound. Isabela's hands were alive with gestures, and Hawke leisurely settled against the stone wall beside her as they engaged in a rousing exchange that Anders could not quite follow. 

He took this respite from walking the span of Kirkwall to breathe and stretch his weary limbs. He'd fallen asleep at the desk again last night after finally succumbing to his persistent exhaustion. There was only a vague recollection of Hawke slipping in hours later and rousing him from his unintended doze, insisting that Anders come to bed. He acquiesced, of course, but there had been more chatting than sleeping. While pleasant as it was to have a partner such as Wyatt Hawke - fellow mage, _gracious lover,_ and an avid listener when it came to the usual discourse over their people - he found himself in some regret for letting it progress so long.

Hawke had shifted to avoid the harsh glare of the steadily setting sun, the angle of his body now much more favorable to staring at him in awe. With the glow behind Wyatt, his newly shorn red mane caught the light reflecting off the water's surface. For that moment, he was like an avatar of the very flames he commanded under his power, and Anders was left in quiet reverence as he leaned his fatigued self against an adjacent building.

"Are you happy?"

Merrill's question went unheard at first. Anders caught himself nodding off somewhere between staring at Hawke and out at the harbor while propped up against the side of a warehouse. 

"Are you happy?" She asked again, craning her neck to steal a glimpse at his face with wide, mossy green eyes that threatened to swallow her face. Merrill could be considered attractive, pleasing to the eye for some. Her elfin face was a curious contradiction, both angular and yet soft. She had an innocence to her, naivety to the world outside of her clan and Dalish culture. Yet, beneath the doe eyes was a razor-sharp mind, raw talent, and a spine of steel. He had seen her stand up to Fenris (and himself regrettably) when her character had been under fire. Despite his varied tastes, she wasn't quite to Anders' fancy, but he supposed some might find those traits desirable. 

He finally snapped out of his trance. "Beg your pardon?" 

"He seems happy! _Hawke,_ I mean. Are you?"

Anders stared at the elf with some skepticism, wondering just what provoked the question. "I - yes, I suppose I am." It was not that he doubted his happiness, just that the word was a puzzling one and did not fully encompass what he felt. To say he was simply happy did a significant disservice to his true feelings. If he could adequately encapsulate them into words, that is. 

Anders cast a sideways glance at Hawke again, letting his eyes rest on the man as the ambiance along the docks carried away his words. They were all but drowned out by a cacophony of voices. The docks were busy this evening, loud with the clattering of moving cargo, the hum of conversation among the crew and deckhands, and the barking orders of the harbormaster. Merrill's long, tapered ears twitched every so often with each distraction, but she'd certainly heard him judging by the saccharine smile plastered on her face.

"Good." She finally said after what felt like an hour of silence and palming a very poorly wrapped ball of twine. "You've spent too much time being grumpy." 

_Spoken like someone who smiles and apologizes to the plants as she steps on them_ , Anders thought. Still, he contemplated what she said, and how he could begin to explain to her why his subconscious mind still whispered doom and disaster, despite how fulfilled that he felt otherwise. Anders' eyes left Hawke's back and traveled the length of his burly figure, still impressed by the mage's solidity. He counted himself quite lucky, for a _few_ reasons, many as innocent as there were intimate.

"Copper for your thoughts?" Hawke's voice coaxed him out of deep thought, and Anders realized he concluded his business with Isabela and had approached him with a query in his eyes and a playful grin on his lips. It tracked that he would be in pleasant spirits, despite how little sleep they had gotten last night.

"Really? My thoughts are worth _at least_ a sovereign."

Hawke's voice was full, robust, and warm as he laughed. It was a familiar comfort Anders held close as he let it envelop the both of them in a private moment of peace. 

"Well, they must be _very_ important! Don't suppose we should head back to the manor and have a serious discussion about it then?" In all his usual good-humored and affectionate glory, he slung an arm around Anders' narrower shoulders and drew him close.

Isabela saddled up beside Merrill and mirrored the gesture, squeezing the elf close to her person. "Come on, Kitten, we'll leave them be. I'll walk you back." 

Anders barely cast them a second glance as they turned to leave in the direction of Lowtown when he felt Hawke press a kiss to his temple. 

"Hey," came a voice much quieter than expected. "You alright?"

It wasn't hard to discern the worry in his lover's blue eyes, blue like the potions rattling around inside his satchel, like the vast clear sky over their heads, or the water stretching out past the docks. _Maker, he is too good._ Anders mused internally, admiring the strong hand closed around his as he dropped his gaze. 

"Just tired," he replied calmly, in an attempt to deter his partner. There was no sense in burdening Hawke further with the things weighing on his heart and mind.

"Oh? And here it was only just talking last night. Where's all that Grey Warden stamina?" 

Hawke's playful ribbing brought a slight smile to Anders's face, though he still scoffed. "Is that a challenge, then? Remember what happened the last time you did that."

"I'm willing to take that risk." Wyatt's voice was right against his ear as he leaned in closer to whisper his confession. There was something more to what he said, though, evident by the way he squeezed Anders's hand tighter. It was a statement of dedication disguised as a joke, and it only served to twist the growing knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. 

" _I just can't go on like this."_

_"Like what?"_

_"It feels like we're just waiting for the other shoe to drop, or for the headsman's axe-"_

_"Hey, hey, it's alright, Anders..."_

Their conversation in the clinic earlier that afternoon played over again in thoughts and reminded him how quickly his lover had stopped what he had been doing to comfort him. Something Hawke often did, one of many reasons Anders considered himself unbelievably lucky and yet so undeserving all at once.

Wyatt broke the tension with a very matter-of-fact declaration and a lazy smile on his handsome face. "We could leave, you know."

The words came as a surprise. "What? And go where exactly?"

Said smile was oddly reassuring and a touch cheeky now. "Oh, I don't know. We could go home."

_Home_. _Where even was that now? Certainly not Kirkwall, but perhaps not even Ferelden. Not really, not anymore. Still, he couldn't leave now and abandon these mages, leaving them to their inevitable fate at the hands of Meredith._

He feigned a grin and pressed against his partner. "We _are_ going home, love."

"Hmm, true," Wyatt murmured in the hush that had fallen over the city as they climbed the steps into Hightown. Behind them, the sun continued to creep below the horizon line and bathed the cobble streets and looming buildings in amber. He slipped an arm around Anders' waist now and leaned into him. "But then I suppose anywhere with you is always going to be home."

It was like someone reached into his chest and clutched his heart. His head swam for a moment, and Anders braced himself on Hawke as they reached the front door of the Amell manor. He wanted to ignore the heavy thumping of his pulse and the heat settling in his face and neck, but his emotions betrayed his mind. "I love you."

Hawke had let go to open the door but turned to look at him with soft eyes and a grin that held no regrets. "I love you too, Anders. No matter what."

_You really mean that, don't you?_

Anders tentatively scanned the foyer and sitting room once they entered, but they were greeted only by the soft humming drifting from the kitchens. Orana was cleaning up, Bodahn and Sandal were likely in bed, but it still wasn't quite the privacy he desired. "I-I think we should talk."

Stowing his boots and staff, Wyatt stopped like a startled cat. "Oh?"

Anders drew a long breath through his nose and nodded. "I'm planning something, and I think - no, I _know_ now you should be part of it. Let's speak privately. Upstairs."

"Is everything alright?"

"It will be."


End file.
